


bang, bang (my baby shot me down)

by donutsandcoffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pure Unadulterated Fluff, with a little bit of character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsandcoffee/pseuds/donutsandcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the thing—guns at carnivals are always rigged. </p><p>Dean’s been using all kinds of guns since he was nine and has never missed a shot since he was nineteen when he put his heart into it, but guns at carnival games are a completely different ball game. Okay, fine, Dean is shit at this stupid game, but only because everyone is supposed to be shit at it. Rigged guns for easy money and all.</p><p>So <i>how</i> in the world is Cas so good at this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	bang, bang (my baby shot me down)

**Author's Note:**

> posted a long time ago [on tumblr](http://deqncas.tumblr.com/post/78354587466/heres-the-thing-guns-at-carnivals-are-always). on ao3 for organization

Here’s the thing—guns at carnivals are always rigged. 

Dean’s been using all kinds of guns since he was nine and has never missed a shot since he was nineteen when he put his heart into it, but guns at carnival games are a completely different ball game. Okay, fine, Dean is shit at this stupid game, but only because  _everyone_  is supposed to be shit at it. Rigged guns for easy money and all.

So  _how_  in the world is Cas so good at this?

Castiel takes another aim, pulls his trigger and hits another small target, knocking it down. The scrawny kid with overly bright T-Shirts behind the counter looks as shocked as Dean feels at the whole ordeal, his eyes darting back and forth between Castiel, the target, and the gun. The kid is gaping like his jaw has suddenly gained a couple of pounds in weight.

Dean himself isn’t gaping, but he certainly shares the sentiment. 

A loud  _clank_  signals another victim of Castiel’s seemingly impeccable aim, and Dean gives a scandalized look at the stack of fake guns behind Bright T-Shirts. From Castiel’s performance alone he would’ve sworn that the guns weren’t rigged, except—except that he  _did_  try playing. 

In fact, it was the sole reason Castiel is playing in the first place. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean is snapped back to reality as his face is suddenly greeted by a large stuffed teddy bear. “For you.”

Dean ignores the way the gesture makes something warm settle in his chest and stomach. “Dude,” he says, and definitely  _doesn’t_ hug the bear tighter—if it seems like it, it’s only because the thing is  _heavy_ , okay—“this is so cheesy. Like, fucking cheesy.” 

Never mind that Dean could’ve stopped Cas from playing if he really didn’t want to. Never mind that Dean was the one who taught Cas about the tradition of couples winning soft toys for their significant other in carnivals. Never mind, especially, that Dean was the one who declared that he was going to win Cas a stuffed teddy bear, before, well, failing spectacularly to hit a single target. With the _rigged_ gun, mind you.

Dean’s memory is very, very selective.

Too bad Castiel never lets him forget. “Dean, you were the one who wanted to get me a teddy bear,” he says with a frown. “Didn’t you say it’s a gesture of affection?” 

“Shut up,” Dean retorts eloquently,  _doesn’t_ blush, and quickly steer the conversation away before they start reenacting a movie with Sandra Bullock in it. “And dude, what’s up with that?”

“With what?”

“The aim, man,” he tilts his head and shoulder-gestures at the fake guns on display to emphasize his point. “Those are usually rigged so people don’t get to win the expensive prizes.” 

Castiel shrugs. “It wasn’t that difficult.”

“’It wasn’t that difficult’?” Dean echoes, skeptical. “That was  _inhuman_ ,” he says, and then adds, because it’s been long since Castiel fell and they have gone through the necessary rough patches that they can now joke about it, “you secretly still an angel?” 

Castiel opens his mouth to retort, but pauses when someone clears the their throat.

They both turn to see Bright T-Shirt, the color of his face impossibly rivaling his ridiculous T-Shirt.

“Look, it’s not like I have a probem with—you know—“ he stutters, and makes a vague hand motion signifying  _Dean and Castiel_ , “ _you two_. But this is Texas and, you know, you might want to—“ he gestures helplessly, “tone it down a little bit.”

Dean and Castiel are rarely Those Couples, but they have had their moments, and Dean calling Cas an angel definitely doesn’t help the situation.

Castiel looks lost in the face of too many euphemisms and stuttering, so Dean takes it as his role to reply. “Yeah, sure, man. We got you.”

“Nothing personal,” the kid says, and he at least has the decency to look guilty about it. 

“No hard feelings,” Dean says, and has half the mind to pull Castiel away by the elbow before realizing that his hands are more than occupied by the ten-pound teddy bear. He decides to nudge Cas with the nose of the bear instead.

“Dean, stop it,” Castiel says, which just encourages Dean to nudge him a couple of times more. 

“ _Seriously_ , guys,” the kid calls out, and this time Dean contemplates going back to the booth and dumps the bear on top of Bright T-Shirts. He is convinced this bear is heavier than the kid.

He decides the effort isn’t worth it, and instead says to Cas, “really, though,  _how_.” 

Castiel shrugs. “I… was a soldier long before I was sent to Earth,” he says, slowly. “As a soldier, I had to be able to quickly familiarize myself with different types of weaponry and compensate its drawbacks. A slightly modified toy gun is nothing compared to a cursed celestial weapon that exists in seven dimensions.”

That… makes perfect sense. Dean has never once forgotten that Castiel was an angel, but sometimes he forgets what it actually  _means_ , and he feels the gravity of it wash all over him again. 

“Whoa,” he says, because he can’t say anything else. “ _Whoa._  That’s pretty awesome, Cas.”

Castiel ducks his head, but Dean knows where to look, and sure, the tips of Cas’ ears are red. Dean thinks Cas is adorable when he’s blushing like this, and he feels the warmth that has settled in his chest spread across his body at the thought of  _him_  as the only person who can make Cas flustered and blushing like this.

He nudges Castiel again with the bear. “Hey.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Thanks,” he mumbles into the toy. “You know. For the bear.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel says with a smile, right before the smile takes a mischievous edge. “And I apologize if I have unwittingly revealed your inability in using a simple device and bruised your over-inflated ego.”

“The gun was  _rigged_ ,” Dean sputters indignantly, and Cas throws him a  _yes, of course, Dean_  look, and Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m  _sorry_  for not having a few millennia of experience to know how to properly use a _rigged_  gun.”

Castiel laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Dean’s ever heard.


End file.
